His Chance
by Clarilune
Summary: A meeting between two friends can turn into so much more. The end...and of course the beginning. Sometimes goodbye is a second chance...but for Axel it's his chance. One-shot. No yaoi.


A/N: PLEASE READ. I wrote this merely because I was inspired. Everyone has a story, and I wanted to write out Lea's and Isa's story...or, rather, the end of it. I always had this sort of vision as to how Axel and Saix came to be, and this is what I created. This is the end of Lea and Isa, and the beginning of Axel and Saix. This is not yaoi; the moments Isa and Lea share are of friendship only. I'm going to write a prequel detailing Isa and how this whole thing came to be because I realize there are a lot of confusing parts in this story that aren't exactly explained...though I'm sure you can gather the gist of it. Please forgive any OOC-ness. I'm going to eventually do a rewrite of this when I've gained more experience, but for now I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

_"It is by chance that we met, but by choice we became friends."_ —Unknown

_"I must learn to love the fool in me the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries." _–Theodore Isaac Rubin

_"Oneness is achieved by recognizing yourself."_ –Yogi Tea Bags

* * *

_**His Chance**_

* * *

_Meet me at the bar_

—_Isa_

It had been a message that could easily be brushed off, that could easily be noted as a casual meeting; a mingling of friendship, of promise, of _fate._

And death.

Dark thoughts never cross one's mind unless the individual spends time brooding about their troubles, about the wrong matters of the world, about thoughts that are more out of place than the person's abysmal situation, or the actions that landed them in such a tangle of misconception. Or if life hits them with an event so shattering, so consuming of one's sense that their ethics are twisted and turned like cracked eggs being whisked so brutally that they lose their substance and are too beaten to be able to be processed into their original state.

And so, when Lea receives that message—dabbed with splatters of ink that clearly indicated that the sender had written the message doubly fast, showing little care of the coordination of the relaying of their message despite the fact they usually deeply cared for such a thing—all he really does is commit it to memory and toss it to the side as just another wasted glob of paper and ink, another recyclable item that seems more purposeful to be littered rather than properly thrown away because he's the kind of person who doesn't give a damn about the environment or the deeds that abuse it.

Slothfully, he steps away from the door. He stares down at his hands and…Wait, isn't he supposed to have something in them? He sticks his hand into his pockets and yanks out whatever items are sheltered within them. Keys, wallet, lighter, rubber band…

He absentmindedly flicks the rubber band while continuing to scan the items in a fixated manner. Picture…

Picture?

Baffled enough to be curious about what the basis of the picture is, Lea squints at the content and musters recognition.

"Ah."

Thoughtfully putting the picture inside his pocket with enough sensitivity to make one assume he's emotional under the surface, Lea spares one look that's lasting enough to stick like chewed up gum at the items in his hands before he drops them to the floor and skitters over them in a motion that reveals at once that he's not the athletic kind. What is he forgetting? Keys, wallet, lighter…Keys, wallet, lighter…Keys, wallet, lighter…

Where is he going again?

Groaning, Lea paces, thoughts toiling inside him like a collection of hair being spun into a hairball in preparation to throw it up. Lea swears that his mind can invisibly upchuck information, like the memory is hostage to his captive brain until slipping out unnoticed. It was how Isa became his constant reminder of events and things, never withstanding a single pass-up of having to stamp the information into Lea's brain by asking him, "Have you got it memorized?" This became something that Lea constantly said then, a phrase so overused that if words held action they would surely pound Lea with every verbal hammer they could find. Often Lea would bring up the phrase around strangers and smile merely because it's his and Isa's little inside joke, despite the fact Isa stopped smiling at him for the tenth time he said it. Originally Isa asked him if he had committed it to memory, but Lea was always forgetful with it. Asking if it was memorized just stuck to his brain. Got it memorized? Got it memorized? Got it memorized?

No, he does _not_ have it memorized, so will his brain shut up!

Lea curses and swings around, driving his unguarded foot into the dresser that Isa had deliberately placed there the other day to, quote, "add some taste to the tongue of no taste buds." Stupid poetic organizer.

"Ow! Damn it, Isa!"

Hobbling off his injured foot, Lea plants himself on the bed and stares down at the welting body part before his brain salvages relayed information that had blown over his mind like a briefly sojourning breeze—a traveler with the purpose to come and go.

It isn't _what_ he's forgetting; it's _who_ he's forgetting. He has to meet Isa at the bar. Right, right.

It isn't hard to determine which bar Isa had been referring to. There had only ever been one bar in Radiant Garden, which, quite definitively emphasized, was because everyone wasn't opposed to prohibition except scoundrels, punks, and troublemakers. A large percentage of the town consisted of families of the conservative type; the smaller, uncommon percentage involved said scoundrels, punks, and troublemakers—namely Lea, and Isa, when he was willing to leap on to the tracks of a train called peer pressure, despite mostly likely being pulled asunder by the speed of this crafty train that Lea specialized in and was practically the conductor of.

Rubbing his foot until the blood circulation becomes a layout for a scattering prickle of numbness, Lea straightens and jumps to a stand, wobbling enough to allow some much needed balance. He takes the objects he had taken out and slips them back into his pockets while he trudges through another doorway. He makes a note as he's clambering to the front door that he needs to do some more organization around the house…or get Isa to do it for him. He doesn't remember or know _how_ all of his clothes winded up in clumps that appear as civilized anthills on the floor or _how_ those bottles got there next to the furniture and _why_ there are several stains of known and unknown substances on the carpet, furniture, and walls. Guess he's as much of a stranger to his house than any other passerby.

While exiting the house, Lea carelessly "forgets" to lock the door, which he plans on using as an excuse later to Isa to say that someone must have robbed and infiltrated his house to explain why his entire house is a mess. He chuckles. He knows Isa will have a hard time believing him and will begrudgingly begin to reorganize his house once he either accepts the excuse or calls Lea a liar for making it up.

What Lea doesn't know is that it's the last time he will ever see his house.

Skidding out onto the road, he checks his pockets again. Nothing is left behind. Good.

He barely glances at the scenery as he begins striding. He doesn't know if he was supposed to be at the bar earlier. He slept in through the entire morning, then woke up at just the stroke of the afternoon, only to fall back asleep a short time later. Upon waking up _again_, he realized he was supposed to be somewhere and scrambled in order to be there. And now he's on his merry way…but it won't be merry for long. Last time he was late Isa menacingly shoved some crock of poetry down Lea's throat about the moon and its greatest aspects and the most barf-worthy stuff he had ever heard. Isa had a bit of an obsession with the moon. While Lea stuck to fire, Isa clung strongly to the moon, memorizing moon charts, phases, and events that marked the small planet's voyage. Lea suspects that when Isa left early from previous visits to the bar it was to stare at the moon or celebrate it in all its silvery, beautiful glory.

He snorts. _Right._

Lea notices how heavy the sun looks in the sky, streaming with enough light to illuminate the clouds that appear as nothing more than a threat of concealment to the sun's last moments before the day is completely gone. He freezes for an instant to tilt his head to the side, marveling watchfully at the light as it soaks up every fragment of the houses cluttered below in the burrowing center of a triad of hills, one of which Lea stands upon. It's a scene he's passed by millions of times. Occasionally he'd flick the sun off when it was being too bright or curse the town to a drought if there was a thunderstorm he had to run through. Those were the absolute worst. But this…this he can tolerate. There's a chilling serenity despite the flush of warmth carrying through the atmosphere.

It's the calm before the storm—but Lea doesn't know that. Just like he didn't know that hugging his mom peacefully eleven years ago would be the last time he would see her or that it had been because of a cigarette that had made it the last time.

Lea bursts into the bar after spending a sluggish walk to the rundown shack located just off a bend of trees bordering the road, nearly twenty feet away from the booming ice cream shop that is literally owned by a scrooge. When he looks around, he sees that nothing has changed. There are small round wooden tables scattered all across the room with a few occupants sipping quietly at a mug filled with some alcoholic beverage. The scent of beer trickles faintly in the air, and as Lea approaches the counter carved, like the rest of the place, with wood and mugs and cups aligned along the top the scent strengthens until he's nearly drunk off merely smelling the load of liver-kill. Muddled by the inhalation, he wobbly takes a seat on one of the stools, pulling himself up like a stiff coat hangar.

"Already drunk?"

The voice rips through his thoughts and clears the fog that had begun to enclose them. Blinking, he turns.

Isa sticks out like a spoon in a convention of knives in the arrayed grouping of men that drink off their troubles or just come for a good time. He started growing his hair out upon arriving at adulthood and since then has cared for it nicely. His blue hair lengthens past his shoulders but not before it ends in a last-minute ponytail. He complains constantly about his length but never cuts it, which is secretly because he seeks competition from Lea by seeing how long the other can grow their hair out or how long they can tolerate the length before they cut it. Staring intently at Lea's disoriented face are Isa's infectious green eyes, which Lea swears in his disorientation has flashes of amber. His attire consists of a shaggy brown buttoned-up coat and blue jeans to complete the look. Isa is never one for dressing out, and this meeting seems to prove that all the same.

"No. Are you?" Lea asks blearily, still clouded from the overwhelming intake of alcohol.

"You know I don't drink," Isa reminds him sharply.

"Oh yeah…so then why do we come here again?"

Isa shrugs. "It's special enough to you."

"Aw, how sweet. Mah buddy's lookin' out for me. Just don't take advantage of me when I'm boozed, m'kay?" Lea is about to call for the bartender's attention, but Isa briskly cuts him off.

"Can you wait to drink?"

Lea looks at him questioningly. "It's a bar. What do you think?"

"I think that there's a reason I called you here, and I want you to listen to it."

Lea wants to laugh and pat him on the shoulder and call it a good one, but Isa's expression says he's all too serious and that it isn't for another fizzle of fun that this meeting was called. Pouting, Lea begins to lean back in his chair when he realizes he's sitting on a backless stool. To satisfy his want to lean, he places his elbow against the counter instead and turns to face Isa.

"'Kay. Shoot me, but don't kill me."

Isa stares down at his hands as they lie restlessly on the counter in a forced fold. "I'm serious, Lea. What I'm about to discuss is…important."

Normally Isa wouldn't emphasize something this much. He would usually explain that he needed to talk about something and get right with it after obtaining Lea's response. Seeing the seriousness of the situation, Lea nods resolutely and smirks. "So I won't flick it off like a picked booger. Got it."

Sighing but not unconvinced of Lea's promise, Isa shifts and stares at him from the corner of his eye, like a reluctant child forced to stare at their parent after getting punished. "Lea, we've been friends for a long time, and in that time we've grown together and not apart…"

Oh God. Is he really…

Lea purses his lips and stares at his friend with a straight face despite his insides knolling painfully like they are crops getting run over continuously by a 3-ton tractor. He is not…Oh, he is _not_…!

Lea sits there in shock, trying unsuccessfully to let his face cool over with a neutral expression. What should he do? He should run. Isa's spewing shit, that's all. He'd realize it was coming out of the wrong end and apologize or laugh it off later on.

Cancelling out his decision to run, he knows what to do. He has something better than running.

"Excuse me, bartender? Make it a big one."

Isa blinks at him as he begins to gulp down large helpings of the alcohol the bartender just gave him. Lea exhales with breath so tainted by the taste that it practically becomes the scent that embodies it. He faces Isa bravely now with a lopsided smile that hasn't quite reached drunk but eventually will.

"You were saying?"

Setting aside this interruption, Isa continues. "We've each lost something dear to us, but they can always be regained with a second pants…"

Lea frowns. Is he hearing that right? Isn't Isa a grammar nut? If he's gonna say 'pants,' he might as well include 'pair of' at the beginning. Wait, that doesn't even make sense…How long did he zone out again?

In an attempt to eliminate the closuring drone of Isa's voice, Lea interrupts. "What the hell are you talking about? What is this about a second pair of pants?"

Isa stares at him in complete puzzlement until thwacking Lea's forehead, already causing a ringer of pain in the distracted man's skull. "You haven't been listening, have you? I said _second chance_."

Rubbing his head tiredly, he mutters, "Right, got it memorized. Go on."

"Pay attention. Please." Isa clears his throat. "It's a rare thing indeed to gather second chances in the settlement of our lives…"

Completely disobeying his friend yet again, Lea zones out much more easily than the first time. He never thought he would have to hear a _confession_ from his friend—a confession of his _sexuality_ and _feelings_ toward _him_. Lea _isn't_ gay. He hit on girls for as long as he can remember and always admired their…erm…features. And this talk, this _confession_, is the explanation as to why Isa never agreed about who was hotter when Lea pointed out a pair of girls that were strolling by. It explained why Isa would uncomfortably shoulder off the topics of girls or would look away shyly—almost _guiltily_—after observing girls or talking about them. The signs had been there, and Lea never noticed it until now. His best friend of all time, the guy that pulled him through thick and thin and supported him when his father disowned him even though he was going through a tragedy of his own, is gay.

Lea peeks at him. _And _the long hair! Sure, he has long hair of his own, but he carefully styles his into spikes, a style that his hair has been trained to manage without any assistance. Doesn't that _scream_ manly? Spikes! Pointy! Like knives! And knives stab! And barbs…barbs could kill! Which feminine specimen would choose spikes for a hairstyle?

Shit, Isa even looks like a girl!

Lea realizes too late he's anxiously tapping his fingers. He doesn't know why. He's just _really_ freaked out by the possibility—the _reality_ of his best friend being gay. 'Cause…'cause that would mean all those times when Isa and him wrestled…all those times when Isa had slipped in a compliment about how decent Lea looked when Lea had assumed them to be jokes…

Holy shit, Isa had been flirting with him and he hadn't even known it!

Out of nowhere, as Lea stirs his thoughts so rapidly that they're melting faster than a bowl of ice cream in the sun, Isa reaches for him.

And Lea falls back.

He regains himself, standing quickly and saying with just as much speed, "I don't like you in that way! I'm not gay! I like women! I _love_ women! Women and me are like…like…the sun and the day!" Breathing calmly enough to slow down, he picks up again at a steadier, composed speed. "But the moon and the sun don't go so well together. Get me?"

Isa stares. Opens his mouth.

Stares some more.

Slaps his forehead.

Looks up.

Sighs.

Shakes his head.

And begins insulting him.

"You're an idiot. Is it really that hard to focus? To listen? To _understand_? For God's sake, I'm not gay, and it's unbelievable you'd even say such a thing. If you'd spare me an ear—no, your _goddamn attention_ then you can finally grasp what I've been trying to tell you for the past ten minutes. Got it?" Isa stares at him, daring him to say another stupid comment, make another idiotic move that could make his anger come alive in an uncontrollable berserk fashion.

Lea nods, renounced from his drunken reverie.

"Listen carefully because we don't have much time now. I made a mistake—a sacrificial mistake. And because of it someone's coming after us. No matter what happens, we have to stick together. We have to make sure nothing overrides us or overshadows the concept of maintaining allegiance." Isa pauses, checking to make sure Lea's listening.

And yes, he's thankfully quite attentive. "Who's after us? Are you suggesting we jump town?"

Isa grunts. "No, that would only cause us more problems. We should probably face it head-on. I was the one who encountered him…" He takes one of the most unnecessarily long, dramatic pauses that Lea has ever experienced in his entire life. "The devil."

It's so stupid that it's not even worth laughing over, Lea decides. "…You encountered the devil?"

"Yes. At least you're hearing _that_ clearly."

"The devil? Big horns? Domain and specialty is hell and dealing with jackasses?" Lea crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow. "And how do you know that? He burn your crotch or something? _I_ could've done that." He fumbles with the lighter in his pocket as he says its, almost itching to see a flame.

"No, but he didn't have to. Did you sleep all day? I was expecting more of an early visit."

Oops. Lea smirks. "Busted. Yeah. What? Does this 'devil' have a tight schedule? Did you have to get moved to his six o'clock slot?"

Isa glares. "This shouldn't be talked about lightly. And that explains why you're a bit…off. When you get too much sleep you're not as analytical and a bit more childish I believe. It would be better for the both of us if you were an insomniac."

"Ouch. Didn't think I was that displeasing. Next time just send some hate mail; I'd still get the message." Lea is about to take a swig of alcohol, but Isa snatches his wrist. Lea's gaze levels with his challengingly, and they stare at each other solidly with the cup still perched in the air, ready to take either a landing or flight.

Isa's jaw is locked tightly now as he releases Lea's hand from his grip. "You don't get it, do you? We're going to die!"

Lea is ready to reply, but his attention hooks on to something he hadn't noticed before and should have noticed earlier.

"You have a scar? On your forehead? How did you—"

And then a scream pierces the air, and it's so wrenching, so frighteningly grating that Lea finds the stool has disappeared beneath him and he's landed on the floor in a mess of alarm and puzzlement with bruises that compile a whole new set of pain. At once, many things happen.

Located in corners of the room is a substance that's tied between a solid and a liquid and seeping ever-so-softly through the cracks of the walls, coming out in the form freshly grown moss and dribbling out onto the floor like a basketball until it drops out all together, suddenly losing its inflation. The man nearest to this substance rises to his feet and begins to reach into his pocket but is thwarted by the injection of a claw into his chest, like a needle into the flesh, a syringe silencing his restlessness. The next instant the man emits noises that would make someone assume he's being strangled and then he's thrown back in a disintegration of particles. His body completely evaporates, exposing the monstrosity that had stolen his life.

A _creature._ A _thing._ That's all Lea can call it immediately. Off the bat, what he absorbs of its appearance involves its yellowing eyes. They aren't quite yellow; they start off white, and as they settle onto the other residents, flitting about the place hungrily as if they've landed themselves in a free-for-all buffet, they begin to yellow like rotting teeth, glimmering like blessed treasure in the solidified sea of blackness that their body is consistent of. All at once Lea wonders how it did it—how it caused the man to burst into emptiness at just the force of its hand…its…claw…claws…

Nauseous from the alcohol he consumed and the sight now before him, Lea stands hurriedly. The creature is scrawny, just tall enough to skim the height of his knee. It hunches low to the ground like it's a dog sniffing someone's trail and wobbles its head uneasily, too indecisive to generate another move. Its tiny feet plant themselves into the ground, and slowly it merges with the floor until not even its bobbing antennas can be described as three-dimensional. It relies on the floor as its transportation, Lea discovers, as its two-dimensional figure swoops quickly around obstacles in order to rise up from behind him.

Batting the creature away with his foot, Lea leaps away from the counter to see multiples of the creature pouring in from all entrances and causing a massive pile in every end of the bar. It doesn't take long to observe that him and Isa are the only ones remaining—the only survivors of the ambush. Quite a revelation to gather, considering they're outnumbered and probably don't have too much time to live.

Isa kicks off a few of the creatures that had persistently clung to his leg. "He's here!"

"The devil?" Lea stomps on the head of one that had the misfortune to fall near him. He continues on like it's a stampede, confident of his survival despite his pounding heart that beats as a goner rather than a survivor.

"Yes!" Isa gravels his heel into one and turns, meeting another with a fierce punch.

Lea is surprised. Isa never demonstrated such combat before and was strongly pacifist in the past. What made him change his mind? _Fight or flight, that's what._ There is no way out of there until the creatures are destroyed, and the chances of them being completely eliminated at this point are low. Nevertheless, Lea and Isa continue to fight despite the risks, deciding that they had been the last ones spared for a reason, that they had no other troubles than to evacuate and leave as soon as possible but not before delivering some major ass-kicking to the creatures that came to ruin their evening. That _would_ be the case if the creatures weren't blocking all the damn exits.

Destroying the creatures makes them burst into a puff of scentless smoke, evaporating like they had been boiling water in disguise. Around Isa there is so much smoke that his figure can't even be seen clearly from the other side of the room, where Lea stands.

Lea grins cockily. "They belong to the devil then? Imps don't really pack much of a punch."

"Don't underestimate them," Isa cautions from across the room.

At this point they're both breathing heavily. Lea can't see anything but the thick, leftover fumes that have risen to most likely avenge the creatures' deaths. Fright pulses through him until he rolls out of the smoke and darts to the other side of the room in order to get a definition of his surroundings.

"Isa!"

Lea charges through the weighted air and clambers until he smacks right into his friend. They both tumble to the floor, accessing further violation from the creatures. The two begin retaliating as much as possible until they're able to stand without being pulled down.

"It's too much," Isa pants. "If they get us…"

"Let's switch gears here." Lea yanks the lighter out of his pocket and holds it up suggestively to Isa's face. "I think they'd be more agreeable if cooked. Who knows, we might be able to make some new friends…and food." He grins wolfishly, flicking the switch and causing a flame to perk up. Oh yeah. That's good.

Isa nods and leaps out of the way just as one of the greedy creatures begins clawing at him. Together, they bolt over the counter and go to a spot that won't be immediately touched by the flames. Lea runs the flame along the counter and watches as the wood simmers and ignites from the single stroke of the intense heat. Some of the creatures in the crowd focus on the fire as it spreads agilely along the wood. This provides the perfect distraction.

Isa is the one to lead. He runs briskly, jogging past and through the creatures like they're nothing more than a pasture of grass. Lea follows expectantly, trailing his lighter alongside him as he runs, allowing the flames to grasp more objects and set the environment even further aflame. Before they know it, they're out of the bar, and the atmosphere fills with real smoke, choking the cleanliness right out of the air.

As the crackling and heat of the fire begins to completely engulf the outside of the bar, smoke accumulates faster, billowing out and around the two friends until nothing seems dank anymore—not even the sweat building on their flesh. Lea thinks sickeningly of how the smoke of the creatures' must have blended with the real smoke and then coughs after inhaling. He's about to make a comment about how the bastards got what they deserved when he notices Isa is heaving on the ground.

"Isa?" He bends down, realizing that his friend isn't well adjusted to the stench of smoke and that he's most likely grown sick because of it. He pats his back while Isa coughs violently. He speaks as if there's nothing wrong, carrying on teasingly like they weren't just in a life-and-death situation. "There, there. It's just some smoke. I don't know the Heimlich, so you're on your own now. But when you're better, let's get some ice cream 'cause I'm starvin' and—"

Particles sweep up into Lea's face where Isa used to be. The particles shift into another shape, supplying structure to something brand new.

Lea chokes on his own breath. It feels like a thorn rips through his heart, stabbing it until it becomes as exposed as Lea's vulnerability and the tears that come with it.

Isa dies, and something—_someone_ is born, raw, right before Lea's eyes.

He's unable to contain his gasp as he steps back falteringly. Isa…He's gone…

They took him…Isa's gone…

_Gone…_

If words could appear in the air, they would be hovering tauntingly near Lea's vision. Everything begins to wane thickly into darkness so that everything is masked by…the absence of light…

He clenches his fists, and his face twists until it's a mutilated scowl. It's all _his_ fault. He resolved to using fire to get them out of there. Because of his suggestion…

No, Isa had agreed.

No, no! That doesn't matter! Isa did agree to using fire as their escape, but it was him who made the suggestion!

He collapses to his knees, shaking uncontrollably, as if his system is malfunctioning. He bends his head forward until it's nearly buried against his chest. He grasps the sides of his head with his hands in a strained effort to hide the tears that begin to slither down his face…

_Repent…_

The word sears through his skull.

Can he? Should he? _Will_ he?

He's all of a sudden torn between so many options, so many paths—between discovering if this is a nightmare, avenging his friend, searching for his friend, hurrying into the fire…

His gasps become strained, realizing too late that the creature that had stolen his friend from him has gotten to him, too.

…or waiting to die.

He's gone blind in all his senses. All that can be felt is the throbbing in his chest, burning…ravaging his thoughts…the greater force in his chest lifting upward until it feels like it's about to yank out his mind and any other insides he has…

And then suddenly he's suspended, floating high, an animal released from its cage, a soul removed from the captivity of a rotting shell. His senses recoil and then return until they're fastened with no other fate than to die. The sour taste in his mouth crumbles to rock; the smoke stinging his nostrils is replaced with the odorless smoke from before; the sounds around him dull so significantly that he can't hear them anymore; the sight before him thins out into a narrow darkness, becoming the complete splice of his vision; the temperature and the weight of the air is cancelled out by the formation of his new being…his new…

Being?

_What…_

Vision shutters…

Shaking…

Cold…So cold…

Something's there…

Instantaneously, his eyes open, and he's met with a face possessing such an outlandish glow that he has to squint in order to catch a fuller glimpse. And even then he cannot process what is right before him. His senses are deadened so completely that the effort to reboot them must be tripled. In the darkness that is slowly splitting into light, things are becoming clearer…Sounds clamber through his head…scurrying to piece together his sense…

"_Number Eight…Axel…"_

Ax…el…

_Axel._

And then everything makes sense.

* * *

Friendship. Can it be carried through another lifetime?

Asking to maintain friendships in another lifetime would be like asking the wife to treat her cheating husband as if he did nothing wrong and forgive him for his shattering, sinful fault.

Asking a Nobody to feel is even harder. Asking a Nobody to feel, to grasp _emotions_ is like asking a blind man to see. It's like asking the insomniac to sleep; it's like asking a gas to have solidifying structure. Simply impossible.

Which is why being _friends_ with someone you once knew and is now a stranger to you is completely _impossible_ for Axel.

Lea knew Isa.

Axel knows Isa through Lea, and this means that he knows Saix, who knew Lea through Isa.

Yeah. Complicated stuff.

But what Axel knows now is that nothing is the same. Sifting through his memories, he remembers what it's like to feel and what it felt like being one with Lea. Lea took in Isa because he was like a brother and his only link to support—his only proof that life wasn't just purely shit, because the two shared a bond that got through them precarious troubles. When Lea was seeking comfort about his mother's death and the disownment and hatred from his father that came afterward, Isa had been there for him—in the same way Lea had been there for Isa when his abusive, drunken father became a bit more violent. It was because of the other that they managed to live, and that is said with about as little affection as possible. Axel knows that Lea would want to continue his friendship with Isa even into another life.

But Axel isn't Lea. At least, not yet.

And Saix isn't Isa either. But the guy can at least put _effort_ into being who Isa was. He's changed, and Axel believes it's for the worst.

"Remember what I told you before, about how we must maintain allegiance," Is—Saix reminds him while adjusting the collar of his cloak—what shall become his permanent wardrobe until death comes for him in this life as well.

Axel nods as he leans against the wall, not bothering to smooth out the folds that have begun to uncomfortably rumple his cloak. He doesn't say anything because something has been tugging at his thoughts ever since he came into this new existence. Not only has he been carefully determining the differences between Saix and Isa, but he has mapped out exactly went wrong between them while going into the next life—the life doomed to nothingness.

"Isa."

The Nobody faces him curtly, revealing his elongated, tangled blue hair and the yellowing eyes that are beginning to border on orange and amber. His 'x' scar cuts neatly between his dull, disinterested eyes. "Lea."

"You're his Nobody, right? Then answer something for me…" Axel wraps a hand on his chin, drawing his fingers upward until he lands on his newly developed tattoos—which he was told was caused by darkness, as some changes in appearances to Nobodies have been said to be. "Why the bar, huh?"

Saix doesn't even hesitate, like he's been expecting this question for a long time. Prepared bastard. Damn him. "It was an important place to you—him. Lea. He—Isa—felt that in order to get your attention you would have to be in an environment you were comfortable in. He needed you to listen."

"Why refer to 'him' any different? He's practically you. You were apart him."

Saix looks away, disconcerted by his comments. "We're two different people."

_I know._ "But you were still a part of him."

"Being somebody and being _a part_ of somebody are two different things," Saix replies emotionlessly. Axel substitutes Saix's voice by imagining him sounding a tad defensive when he says it, containing enough courtesy to make it non-argumentative. That was how Isa sounded—and how Lea appreciated him sounding, which is why Axel puts forth such effort to make Saix into the person he was a part of, because there is a part of Axel that wishes to still cling to Saix as a friend, to remember him when he was whole.

Because, let's be honest, that was when he was at his greatest moments. When every Nobody is at their greatest moments. When they're _whole_.

But was that really their greatest moments?

They could feel. Their emotions, their senses, and the greatest depth to their character were alive. Of course that was their greatest moments.

Axel waves dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. So what's the plan?"

"The plan?" Saix isn't genuinely dumbfounded, but he is clueless enough to be questionable. He stares at the other Nobody with a face clean of no emotion. To someone with a heart, it's truly frightening. It's cruelty and innocence in a single expression, since the nullification of the two bring out an emotionless mask so well. Not a good combination, Axel admits.

"Yeah. What are we going to do? We got our allegiance; consider it unbroken and all that other shit. But what _now_?"

Saix dips into a thoughtful silence. "Simple. To obtain our hearts, we must first grasp what will obtain them: the Organization. In getting the Organization, we would be in higher command and we would set those of the foundation to do our bidding so that we could easily acquire our hearts. In order to get to that point, there is one thing we must do: Eliminate the obstacles.

"The leader of this Organization is highly powerful; eliminating him isn't an option. Rather, _using_ him and gaining his trust would be the more appropriate tactic. Those lowering the standards for the Organization will become liabilities, and in turn will be destroyed. Any questions?"

"Yeah." Axel pauses as Saix continues to stare at him blankly, allowing a dramatic space to creep into the conversation. He smirks and taps his index finger to the side of his head. "Got it memorized?"

"…" Saix unresponsively turns away, flattening out Axel's expression and the overall suspense he had preciously created.

"Jeesh, take a joke, will ya?"

"…"

"I'm betting these are one of the moments where it's so funny that you can't even laugh."

"No. I just don't have the heart to laugh."

"Well you can make it _sound_ hearty."

"…"

"Did your diaphragm die when Isa did? Because I'm pretty sure you can still laugh," Axel says pointedly.

Abruptly, though somehow expectedly, Saix walks away, leaving Axel to mock offense.

Axel knows that Isa betrayed Lea. That much he's certain of. Because if Isa _really_ knew Lea, he would know that Lea preferred ice cream over any sort of alcohol, no matter what Lea acted out to look "cool" to his friend. Sure, alcohol had been good for him; it could make the pain go away sometimes. But ice cream was where it really hit the spot. Isa would've had the meeting at the ice cream shop if he wanted to pick a place that was special to Lea. Isa said he met the devil…and what occurred in that meeting? A talk? A _deal_? Did Isa purposely choose the bar because it was in a disclosed location? Where they couldn't gather help immediately? Where they'd have a better chance to die? _Had it been a suicide?_

Axel's face creases into the same mask that Saix has taken on. As he walks away, his hands fumble with a picture that he had situated in his pocket upon first receiving the cloak and learning of his existence as a Nobody. Axel had taken the picture from Lea's belongings and kept it as a motivational tool to show him that he needed his heart more than anything at the moment. Pulling the picture out, he examines it. It's just an average picture, one taken a few years back when he and Saix had been whole and had been best friends. In this picture, Lea slings his arm around Isa's neck in an imitation to choke him, while Isa panics as calmly as possible by struggling against Lea's grip. After the picture had been taken, Isa had resorted to complete flailing and jabs hard enough to knock the air out of Lea. Axel stares at it in forceful admiration, roping the phantasmal emotions from inside him in order to gain a sharp, brief instant of _feeling_.

And then, as his knuckles tighten around it, flames clench at the paper, soiling the image and smoldering it into what Axel considers to be a more useful form: ashes. Hey, it's better than littering. He drops it to the ground as the fire finishes off any identifiable remains to the image and steps over it uncaringly.

Axel needs to become whole, but he doesn't need to be someone else completely to get there. In going forward, he will be Axel; he will not be Lea because being Lea got him exactly where he is now. By burning that picture, he's leaving his past behind. Becoming his own persona, his own being, is his ultimate goal. Not obtaining his heart. Not becoming whole.

It's to become his own being, with his own heart—being whole with no one else to define him. He won't exist out of nothingness if it means existing. He'll exist out of who _he_ is. He's not something that shouldn't exist. He's something that _does_ exist and will exist through a more wholesome purpose.

Axel isn't getting a second chance; he's getting _his _chance. And that's all he'll ever need.

* * *

_**End.**_


End file.
